Chapter 2

The boat disappeared over the horizon, and a silence I had never known fell over the island. It was heavy, broken only by the lapping of waves and the buzz of insects.

My phone. They' d left my phone in my pocket.

With immense effort, I managed to get to my feet, my legs shaking. I stumbled around, trying to work my hands, still tied behind my back, into my front pocket. It was a clumsy, painful process. My shoulder screamed in protest.

Finally, my fingers brushed against the cool metal. I hooked a finger around it and painstakingly worked it out of my pocket. It fell into the sand.

I dropped to my knees again, contorting my body to see the screen.

Two percent battery.

My heart pounded. One call. I had one call.

I awkwardly nudged the screen with my nose, trying to hit Nicole' s contact. My hands were numb, useless behind my back.

The call connected. It rang once. Twice.

Voicemail.

She sent me to voicemail.

A wave of pure, hopeless rage washed over me. I wanted to scream, to smash something, but I was helpless.

I tried again, this time calling my dad. He was a powerful man, a prominent alumnus. He' d fix this. He had to.

It rang. He answered.

"Ethan? What's going on? Nicole called me, said you needed some time to yourself after what you did to the Blakely memorial. I have to say, son, I'm disappointed. That's not how a Lester acts."

His voice was stern, disapproving. He'd already been poisoned.

"Dad, it wasn't me! Caleb framed me! They left me on an island! You have to help me!" I yelled, my voice frantic.

There was a pause. "An island? Don't be dramatic. Nicole said it was a private retreat. A place for you to get your head straight. Honestly, after your behavior lately, maybe it's for the best. You need to learn some accountability."

"Accountability? Dad, there's nothing here! Tara and Nicole dumped me here! My hands are tied!"

"Your hands are tied because you refuse to take responsibility," he said, his voice cold. "Caleb is a good kid. I've been helping him. You should have been his mentor, not his tormentor. Call me when you're ready to apologize to him. And to Nicole."

He hung up.

The phone screen went black. The battery was dead.

I was completely, utterly alone. The weight of the betrayal hit me like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs. My father. My own father believed them.

I fell forward onto the sand and just lay there, the sun beating down on my back. The zip ties bit deeper into my swollen wrists. Despair was a heavy blanket, suffocating me.

I thought about Nicole. I remembered our first date, sitting in my beat-up truck, sharing a milkshake. I remembered proposing to her under the stars at her family's ranch. It all felt like a lifetime ago, a memory belonging to someone else.

That memory was a ghost now, mocking me in this desolate place. The love I thought we had was a lie. It was all about image, about legacy, about what the Lesters and the Gordons were supposed to be. It was never about trust.

The sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. The beauty of it was a cruel joke. As darkness fell, the island came alive with new sounds. The chirping of crickets, the deep croak of a bullfrog, and something else.

A low, guttural hiss from the tall grass just beyond the beach.

Fear, cold and sharp, cut through my despair. This wasn't a retreat. This was a death sentence.